


just do something

by fleurmatisse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9859844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurmatisse/pseuds/fleurmatisse
Summary: They've gotten back to the bunker by now, him and Sam in the impala and Cas in his truck, but Dean can't get his nerves or his feet to settle.





	

Cas is alive. Not only is he alive, he doesn't have a mark on him, just the giant red bloodstain on the front of his shirt. This isn't even unusual for them, but every near death (or actual death) experience could be the last, and Dean can safely say he never wants to see Cas bleeding out, have black veins trail up his body, or spew whatever the hell that black stuff was again.

He knows he held on to Cas’s hand too long after helping him up, only letting go when Cas pushed his hand away. He can still feel the echo of Cas’s fingers sliding over the back of his hand, which is--ridiculous. They've gotten back to the bunker by now, him and Sam in the impala and Cas in his truck, but Dean can't get his nerves or his feet to settle. It's a toss-up, what's making him so antsy. Usually having his family come back from the brink of death was not _more_ anxiety inducing than the almost-death. Well he's not _more_ anxious now; it's a different anxious, an internal battle anxious, where before it was fighting not to let Cas see any sort of negativity because _oh god Cas was dying, for real this time, and he was gonna have to watch him go_. Now he's replaying that “I love you. I love all of you.” until it feels like the only thing inside his head.

He doesn't know what to do about it.

Well okay. Maybe he has an idea.

Cas is at the table with Sam, wearing a fresh shirt and pants but without his tie or coats. He looks broader without them, more of a presence even as he sits and moves only to turn the pages of a book. They had gone through the library for any information about the Princes of Hell, Dagon specifically, splitting the reading between the three of them. So far Dean has gotten up no less than four times; first for a drink, then for another once the first was gone, a third time to go to the bathroom, and this last time he just needed to move. Now that he's back, another shirt over the two he's already wearing so he could pretend to have an excuse, he wants to leave again.

“I love you,” Cas had said, and _then_ , “I love all of you.”

He hadn't looked at Dean when he said it.

As Dean sits, Sam and Cas both spare him a look before going back to their reading. If they'd found something, they would have collected him from where he was loitering in his room. He picks up his current book and skims a few pages without retaining any information.

_“_ _I love you.”_

Dean stands up again.

“Dude, if you're taking another bathroom break, you have a problem,” Sam says. He was a little stunned about the whole “wielding the Lance of Michael to kill a Prince of Hell” thing for a while on the ride home, but research had apparently brought him back to his usual little brother self. Dean ignores him.

“Cas, can I talk to you for a sec?” he asks. Cas traces a finger down the page until he, presumably, reaches the end of his current sentence where his finger pauses, and Dean clenches his hand to keep his ridiculous teenage feelings at bay. Cas looks up at Dean, waiting for him to speak. Dean unclenches his hand. “Outside, maybe?”

Sam looks between them, eyebrows twitching but otherwise impassive, which means he's having a lot of thoughts but none of them would be safe to air in front of Dean. Cas looks at him for a few seconds more before he says, “Of course,” and flips the book facedown to hold his place as he gets up.

Dean goes out first, focusing on the clang of his shoes against the stairs rather than the unyielding repetition in his head. He doesn't notice until they're outside that Cas hadn't replaced his shoes when he changed his clothes, so he's standing on the gravel in a pair of dark socks. Cas doesn't seem to mind the gravel, but he does start to look a little impatient when Dean just stands there with no idea what to say.

“What did you want to talk about, Dean?” he prompts.

Dean fidgets with his sleeves. “What you said.” He stops. What is he doing? Cas said he loved all of them, that they're his family.

 _But he said “I love you” first_ , Dean's brain reminds him. He swallows and tries not to think too hard about what he's saying, looking at Cas's shirt (distracting, with the broadness), then past his shoulder, just glancing at his face.  
“In the barn, when you didn't think you would--and you said--”

“I love you,” Cas says. Dean's gaze snaps to his involuntarily. He looks...tense. But he's meeting Dean's eyes and Dean really wishes he wouldn't; he's had years to deal with the intense eye contact but he feels every thought in his head grind to a halt. He finds his mouth moving, forming the shape of _you_ _love me_ without making a sound. Cas looks away first. “If that was all…?”

Dean needs his brain to go back online, just for a second, to keep Cas from going back in the bunker. He can't say much for his brain, but his hand reaches out and grabs the side of Cas's shirt as he starts to move.

“Cas, you're--” he starts.

“Family,” Cas interrupts. “Like your brother.”

“No,” Dean says, a little too loud. Cas is looking at him funny and God, can his brain please just do _something_.

Then Cas says, “Dean,” and Dean just--kisses him. He doesn't know who's more surprised about it, maybe neither of them. This has been a long time coming, and all it took was a dozen or so certain deaths between them. Somehow Dean winds up with his back pressed against the bunker door, Cas pinning him in place, as Dean pulls back for a breath, a second to gather his nonexistent thoughts. The back of his head thunks against the door, a shock that should have brought him back to attention but instead Cas drags a hand up the back of his neck between his head and the door and their faces are so close it would just be a waste not to kiss him again.

The next time he's aware of anything that's not Cas, someone is clearing their throat. Now when Dean's head hits the door it's hard enough to make his eyes water.

“Sorry to interrupt,” his mom says. Cas moves to the side, turning to face Mary as Dean rubs the back of his head and hopes he doesn't look too much like he was going to suggest they go down to his room and not come back out for a few days.

“Hey, Mom,” Dean says, apparently to Mary’s amusement. “I thought you were taking another case.”

“The bunker was on my way, I wanted to grab a few things before I headed out,” she says, walking towards the door. She pauses next to Dean, looks between him and Cas, and seems like she's about to smile when she says, “I'll be back in a few.”

Once the door is closed behind her, Dean whacks Cas in the arm. “How did you not hear her coming?”

Cas pulls a face. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“God,” Dean mutters, briefly covering his face with his hands. “My mom caught me making out with an angel.” He laughs. “That's a sentence I never thought I'd be saying.”

Cas smiles, and Dean wants to haul him closer. But maybe not when his mom is on her way back to them. He can wait. Probably.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
